The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death
by Mitchell 'Jills' Shazia
Summary: Some complete nonsense about Bulgarian sheep and chocolate milk. If you find insane humour purely insane and not at all humourous then do not read. Otherwise, enjoy!
1. Birth of a Toucan

**The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death**

It was the year 1832, and I had already destroyed seventeen thousand people eagerly. I was tired from my long hard day of destruction, but was I allowed to sleep? NO! That decision lay in the hands of the Bulgarian sheep from Essex, and all they ever had to say in the matter was "Baa!" or "I would like to spend the rest of my life in an underground storage area."

Usually "Baa!" though.

The Bulgarian sheep had always favoured the axolotls over us. The axolotls were even allowed to have a decent profession. We could only be either a crocodile wrangler or a destroyer. Most people chose the former. I chose the latter.

A destroyer is someone who destroys the lives of others for a living. They are cruel, lethal, and have best sense of humour you could possibly imagine. I chose this life because I found the idea intriguing. I was reluctant to kill at first, but eventually I became rather bloodthirsty. Now, I love my job. Also, destroyers get paid seven pence more than crocodile wranglers. You'd think that wasn't much, but when you're a petty, bloodthirsty destroyer, like me, myself, and I, any kind of advantage makes you almost shrivel up in the joy of your own righteousness.

The Bulgarian sheep emerged from the deadly realms of Essex in the early 1900s. I am aware of the fact that earlier I stated that is was 1832, but nod along; this minor error is the product of insanity. Anyway, when the Bulgarian sheep arrived, they fought us with nothing but their own sandals to try and take control. The war had gone on fifty-seven years before the sheep had claimed the ultimate victory, but that's another story.

I took a step into the glorious, magical lunar lands of possibility, and collapsed on the floor in exhaustion.

When I awoke, I was in another place entirely. The walls were clearly made of beetles, which really irritated me. What, did they think we were too stupid to notice? I looked above me and eyed the glowing, green matrix of wonderment above me in a curious fashion. I left the room, and found myself in a place that uncannily resembled Times Square. I looked above me once more and saw the thing everyone dreamed of seeing; the giant blue balloon. I reached up to it, and grasped onto it firmly, pulled myself close to it, in order to see if the legends were true, and if it really would remove all bad from the world.

The legends were not.

I let it go solemnly. I began to slump off in disappointment but then I realised. If I believed, I could do anything. I stormed off determinedly to do something I'd always wanted to.

I left the pet shop in triumph with a pet rabbit. Unfortunately, the rabbit was insufferably ravenous and made continuous attempts to devour me, so I ran back to the pet shop hurriedly and put him back, leaving him with only a note.

_Dearest Rabbit-I-Never-Got-A-Chance-To-Name,_

_I will always love you. In the two minutes and twenty-three seconds you were my pet I was at the happiest I ever have been. Thank you, for being not only the greatest pet a girl could wish for, but also an excellent friend. If you were not so viciously murderous, we would have been happy together. But you were viciously murderous, and so it was never meant to be._

_You have a good heart; it's just a little vicious for my liking._

_Love From,_

_Krog Davies_

It was only after I had ran from the store, tears streaming down my face, leaving my rabbit, the confused shop owner, and my heart behind, that I realised my name was not Krog Davies.

My name was Morphinus Creekenstein IV, and I was a proud Nintendo DS Fan Club member since 1908. I think that's pretty impressive seeing as it was released in 2004.

Then, I remembered that I hadn't checked the monthly Nintendo newsletter in seven months. A whole ton of games could have been released and I wouldn't even know. I ran zealously to my computer, when I remembered two things that stopped me:

1.) I was in that place that resembled Times Square. My computer was miles and miles away, back home in England.

2.) When I signed up to the Nintendo DS Fan Club, I forgot to tick the box that said "I would like to receive a monthly Nintendo newsletter by email."

I fell down on my knees and screamed in agony. I let the misery come from its underwater seclusion and envelop me completely. I shrieked out over and over, until the pain became too great for me to do even that. Lost in a place that may or may not be Times Square, rabbit-less, and, I could barely even think the words, Nintendo newsletter-less. This was beyond agony. I gripped my fingers so hard the thin flesh over my knuckles tore and bled down my arm. I could have been there for days, I was long past caring.

The pain eventually became tolerable, and I opened my eyes to several concerned faces, all wondering if I was actually in pain or if I was just mad. "Sorry," I began to explain. "I just realised I was never going to receive an exciting email from Nintendo about upcoming gaming features."

They all nodded to themselves, internally deciding on the latter option and judging me for being such an abnormality. I could practically feel their distaste for me, but, while getting better, the pain was still throbbing deep, deep within. I grasped my stomach to keep myself from falling apart, and hurried on, still wondering where I was. I came to a bus stop, and sat there patiently. When the bus arrived, I clambered on, and asked the driver, "Where am I and where am I going?"

"Nurfenville," he replied. "And wherever the hell you want. This bus stops at every bus stop in the known universe. It could be a long ride, it sometimes takes..."

I didn't hear the rest; I had already got off. There, in front of me, stood a pale fellow with neon-yellow eyes. The bright sunny colour of his eyes made me back off, but he only stared deeper into me, as if to look into my soul. I found this mildly creepy, and decided to walk off, and he did not follow. What a freak. I continued to walk down the road, when, suddenly, the landscape took a dramatic change. What was a place resembling Times Square, apparantly called Nurfenville, was now a world of deep clouds and pixies. The pixies loved me, I could feel it. They came and sat in my hair, playing with my deep blue locks. When they flew off, they left me feeling relieved of the pain Nintendo had scarred me with. I closed my eyes and let sweet relief tumble across me in every direction. I felt the cool breeze upon me, and I knew there was only one place this could be; Mount Wycheproof. Mount Wycheproof is the smallest mountain on the Earth's surface, standing at just forty-three metres, in Australia. I threw my head back and laughed like a maniac. Maybe I was. All I knew was that, after all these years, sweet peace had found me. I could finally rest in asylum. I curled up and wept with the happiness of the moment. It was overwhelming. I fell asleep right there on Mount Wycheproof, and I felt the happiest I think I ever could feel.

The next morning, I awoke feeling well rested. Since the Bulgarian sheep refused to give us permission to sleep, this was not a feeling I was used to. I rolled over and opened my eyes, to be greeted by Derek. Derek was a burly brute of a fellow made purely of chocolate milk. He was also one of the last remaining secret members of the Canadian Fruit Society. The CFS used to be one of the most popular societies in all of Asia, never mind in Canada where it was actually from. These days, only seven of its members were brave enough to remain faithful to the group. This was because of the fact that if you remain faithful to such a society, the evil beings known as the Snugs would send a radioactive beam to you to destroy anything of any importance to you whatsoever. So, a manically depressed suicidal person would survive such an attack.

Derek was not manically depressed or suicidal, but he was made of chocolate milk. You can't destroy chocolate milk. So, Derek is safe, and able to stay the greatest member the CFS ever had.

"Hey, Derek," I greeted him.

Derek pulled out a massive beach ball from his pocket and beat me with it. It was then I realised that this was not Derek; this was Kevin.

Kevin was no chocolate milk CFS member. He was the Bulgarian sheep's prime officer. He was the most intense kind of cushioned cat one could ever possibly dream of. It was his job to come after people who broke the strict and firm rules the sheep bestowed upon our world. There were five rules, plus the rules we already had before the sheep came. The only one they regularly had to enforce was to never stop working. That means if we wish not to break the law, we have to spend all eternity either crocodile wrangling or destroying. I hadn't worked in over a day, almost two, in fact.

I knew what was to become of me now. I was done for. Unless... maybe...

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, until I heard the quiet popping noise that confirmed my triumph. I opened my eyes to meet Kevin's, which were wide with obvious confusion. I beat my wings and flew off far, far away, gladly leaving Kevin behind me. Less gladly leaving my newfound home and beloved pixies. I cared for them so. I promised myself I would visit them, as soon as I was sure I could be safe from Kevin. If it weren't for them, I surely would have been altered in all the wrong ways by my severe agony. I cawed in a grand and superior fashion, as if to say, "Thank you." I swooped off into the distance, and, hopefully, safety.

My hopes came true. Living life as a toucan, the sheep, Kevin, and their brutal minions never found me, and I'm sure they never will. Oh, they've seen me, before. Seven times. Each time, Kevin had looked deep, deep into my eyes, much in the way that freak with the neon yellow eyes had that one time in Nurfenville. Each time, Locksy, one of the sheep, had bleated at him in a way that clearly meant "For God's sake, you freak, she didn't turn into a bloody toucan! It just isn't possible!"

Each time, Kevin had let it go, but only after giving me an "I'm on to you, bird" look. Each time, I continued blindly pecking away, as if I had noticed nothing. As if I was nothing but a bird.

I used to visit Mount Wycheproof every week. The pixies always welcomed me with open arms, and making me feel the sweet relief of safety. But one time, I went back, and it was just Nurfenville again. The landscape must have changed back. I visit everyday now, hoping... but, it has been Nurfenville for a full seventeen years.

This is still a happy ending. I was safe, free, and can type up my memories as a toucan somehow, but I missed the mountain dearly. It was my home in all ways that counted. So, it could be happier. So many others before me had had happier. But, you can't win them all. I got lucky enough when turning into a toucan actually worked.

The End


	2. The Revelation of Derek

**The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death II**

No matter how many times I look back on my past, I can never regret the decisions I made that ultimately lead to my reincarnation as a toucan.

Part of me believes I should, but another part tells me that it's better this way. If it were not for my obvious toucanism, Kevin would have destroyed me with his infamous beach ball on that fateful day so many years ago. But, I can hardly say life as a toucan is a happy life.

I don't fit in with the other toucans. I don't understand their way of life. They don't like me, because they think I'm a fussy eater (I won't eat spiders or lizards, which means I use up a lot of their precious fruit). They think I'm an idiot, because I never have quite mastered the art of flight, and a lot of toucan language still, to this day, remains a mystery to me. They think I'm a freak, because, while young children love my stories of my previous humanity, the adults think I'm insane. Eventually, they got tired of me, and that is where this story begins.

They threw me out of their toucan world, not even bothering to try and conceal their prominent dislike for me in their hateful squawks. I was lost, and began to contemplate upon why I had chosen a toucan out of all animals to turn into. But then, I decided opening up those doors would be a bad idea. Last time that happened it lead to the Great Leafy War of 1992, and, well, we all know what happened there. I flew, slightly wonkily, from the cruel, heartless toucans, and soon found myself outside a warm, friendly, and somewhat empty building.

The Canadian Fruit Castle.

Home of the legendary society, the Canadian Fruit Castle was once considered some of the most sophisticated and influential architecture to ever stand on Melvin's Green Earth (and, no, I do not mean God, I worship Melvin and Melvin only). Nowadays, as the castle crumbles away, Derek is the only one to stand by that opinion.

As warm, friendly, and somewhat empty this building might be, I could hardly say I thought it was safe. Since the coming of the Bulgarian sheep from Essex, the majority of Canada's fruit fanatics had been wiped out. The remaining few were left seeking asylum, and found it here. With Kevin, that bloody cushioned cat, and the Bulgarian sheep on my tail, I could bring down the whole society with me when I was discovered.

Meh.

I burst through the castle's welcoming doors and cried "I'm safe! No, I'm HOME!"

But, I soon felt a rather wretched prodding on my shoulder. I kept my eyes tightly shut and refused to discover the source of said prodding, for, to be frank, I found it mildly putrid. It could have been hours that I stood there waiting for the putridity and wretchedness of this bizarre prodding to wear off. But, eventually, I grew weary of standing there doing nothing, and opened my eyes in order to discover this cause of all this putrid wretchedness, and instantly regretted it. The cause of the prodding was the same sight I have been praying to Melvin that I never have to see again.

The sight that greeted me was intense, cushioned, and insufferably cat-like. Hell, I'd go as far to say that it was more than cat-like, it was just plain cat.

Kevin. He'd found me.

It became evident that the prodding I formerly felt was the dreaded feel of Kevin's cruel beach ball hitting me. And if you think that beach balls are not something fret over, then you are obviously not comprehending quite how dreaded this particular beach ball was. I was momentarily frozen with pure fear. When I melted out of my scary ice, I noticed that Kevin had his beach ball raised high, ready to give me a mighty blow to the head. As I awaited my unavoidable fate, I remembered how annoying it is when you put on a plaster and it starts itching underneath it. Then, I remembered my childhood friends, Patrick and Squidward, and suddenly realised that they were apes. I was about to reminisce about the time I gave birth to a bear, but then the fatal blow I was awaiting struck me.

And, to my surprise (and relief), this blow turned out to be utterly un-fatal. The beach ball bounced right off my head, and then a revolutionary realisation hit me. Toucans must be immune to Kevin's torturous beating.

This joyous revelation gave me the small push I needed to get me out of there. Beating my wings and heading away from Kevin once more, I flew away, not knowing where the hell I was going, and honestly, not caring. The only thing that could have possibly turned me around at that point was one the thing that did; hearing the vile screams of fruit fanatics. The Bulgarian sheep's minions had found them. And now they were suffering... because of me.

I may have been a toucan, but I had enough humanity left in me to know I had to do something. But what? That was the real question, and a perplexing one at that. I decided this was a matter I needed to really think about, and so I sat on a conveniently placed wardrobe that happened to be outside the Canadian Fruit Castle, and let myself go into deep thought mode. When I emerged from said mode, the idea seemed obvious. It was so simple, so easy... yet so unexpected. It was guaranteed to work, that much I was sure of. I flew through the window at what might have been the fastest any toucan has ever gone, only to see a dead body, and five mourning Canadians and a man of chocolate milk. No sheep, no minions, no cushioned cats. I was too late.

I ran to them, to see who had been lost. I landed beside Derek, nuzzling against him comfortingly, and looked at the dead fruit fanatic's face. It was Winifred Flammel, the only CFS member in history to have found a way to know whether or not a fruit knows what it is to be Canadian just by looking at it. What she was yet to find was a fruit that did know what it is to be Canadian. The guilt I felt sent me in a pool of despair. I felt myself being overpowered and lifted away by it. Literally. I vanished from the castle, and unintentionally brought Derek with me.

Derek and I found ourselves in a place that sent shivers of happy memories through my spine. They tingled in my fingers. I bent down and stroked the ground beneath me with my beak, and relived the buggy breaths that had taken place on this very ground. It was wonderful. The sensation that flowed through me as I let the sweet air flow through my feathers was something close to feeling you might get when you buy a brand-new rug and they send you two by accident. I was so happy that in my excitement I pecked the ground far too hard for it to really be considered a peck anymore. I shoved my beak hard into the ground, so hard it took me off my feet, and got stuck that way. How I was going to get out of this situation was a far more perplexing puzzle than finding a way to save the CFS.

I looked over to meet Derek's questioning gaze, and if the earth wasn't so tight against my beak I would have cawed a caw for help.

"I _would_ help you," he told me. "IF you weren't the reason Winifred was killed. And, well, being made out of chocolate milk, my hands would go right through you..."

I just continued to stare at him with agonized eyes, full of both tears and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he said, tormented. "I'll go get help. Just stay here."

He really was a good person. I could easily see why the society thought so highly of him. I had just unintentionally killed one of the six remaining people he considered family, and he still wanted to help me.

I sat there and awaited his return, while preoccupying myself with more happy memories, picking up from where I left off with Kevin. I thought about the time I gave birth to a bear. I named the bear Charles William Harrison Ding Dong McSheen Le Supercharge VII. This was particularly odd because there was no Charles William Harrison Ding Dong McSheen Le Supercharge VI, or V, or IV, and so on. You see the pattern emerging.

I cared for that bear with the kind of human-animal love you only see in books and movies. I remember when he was ill, I injected him with honey, and it went through his bloodstream and got stuck in his paw, making it bulging and yellow, and cutting off his circulation. I took the honey out, and the honey died of plastic poisoning, still in the syringe. Oh, happy memories. Then, I wondered where that bear was now. The last time I saw him was my two-hundred and twenty-ninth birthday, when he was rolling around on the floor happily. Then, a cricket landed on his belly, and like that he was gone. He just disappeared before my eyes. I hadn't really realised how strange this event was before. I just wrote it off as perfectly ordinary and never really gave it much thought. I fervently hoped he was quite alright, though that seemed unlikely, given the circumstances...

My worries were interrupted by Derek's return. With him, he brought what I thought was a giraffe but actually was a hippopotamus. The hippopotamus pulled me out with his teeth, and it was extremely painful. Ludicrous though it was, I decided this hippopotamus was my long lost brother, and wrapped my arms around it, clinging to it tightly (yes, yes, toucans have no arms, WHATEVER). Our delightful reunion rudely interjected by Derek clearing his throat in ways too loud to be necessary. I gave him a squawk of disapproval, and continued clutching my beloved brother. Did Derek not understand how long we had been waiting to find each other? Perhaps this milky one was not as pleasant as I had previously thought. Just then, my brother, who I had just that second named Loofentyle, charged right through Derek at overwhelming speed. He continued racing across the patented ground of sweet dialect. I turned back to Derek and gave him the smuggest caw of all smug caws. That was thrown in my face, though, because before long, Loofentyle, being a not particularly bright animal, had slammed himself head first into a rock, and knocked himself out. I decided it was time to let myself die. I'd had a good run, but, in the name of Melvin, it was time to let go.

I closed my eyes, and let the end approach me.

I was awoken by Derek splashing me with chocolate milk. Well, the end would have to wait. Derek was obviously in need of a really big shovel. I gave him an eager nod, and went flying.

I returned in mere minutes and dropped a shovel at his feet.

"...Thanks?" Derek thanked me, obviously grateful. Melvin bless him. I just nodded knowingly.

"Okay..." Derek shook his head. "Er... Where are we?"

I shrugged. How was I supposed to know?

"Well... it seemed kind of like you knew where we were, before, when you were stroking the ground and got stuck..."

What an odd thing to say. I wasn't entirely sure I liked Derek much; he seemed to be a rather peculiar fellow.

"I mean... you were so happy to be here," he elaborated. Well, duh, I was reliving happy memories. "That's a really... strange thing to be happy about if you don't even know where we are."

I simply glared at him, acting upon my newfound dislike. He shrugged, as if I was the weird one. Jerk...

There was a long silence. Derek moved his head slightly to the right. There was a long silence.

"Okay, I'm going to find out where we are," Derek declared. "You can come, or you can stay here and peck the ground again."

As if I would go anywhere with that jerk! He was probably just trying to lure me away so he could eat my grandmother...

Well, I wasn't about to let my grandmother die because of him. I flapped off determinedly to save her life, leaving Derek and all his jerkiness behind me.

The End


	3. The Quest for Grandma

**The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death III**

So, I go downstairs, and there's Burney, sitting on the couch, chewing. No, not chewing, popping.

But, before that, I was flying off to save my grandmother from Derek. That Derek was a fiend. I was going to need some kind of sports drink if I was going to defeat him, especially since he would have no trouble getting the entire CFS to join him in his quest. I mean, I know after the death of Winifred Flammel there were only six of them, but those guys were some seriously tough fruit fanatics! There was Melissa Jukebox, Nelly Narrative, Crepuscule Krog, Doob, Lockstep Splashdown, and, of course, Derek. Without an army of my own, or a sports drink, I was doomed. And so was my grandmother, for that matter. So, obviously, my first stop would be Nurfenville. I hadn't been there for a long time, to avoid Kevin, but after I realised toucans were immune to his beach ball there really wasn't anything to worry about anymore.

I continued my delectable flap-like movements of internal dialect, and gazed upon the wondrous repeated patterns the sky had to offer. As I approached my destination, I let Melvin know how much I loved him, just out of habit. I landed delicately by the bus stop where I had met that pale fellow with neon yellow eyes. Wow, it had been a long time since I'd been here. What I really needed, though, was Mount Wycheproof and its pixies. See, while the pixies loved me, they were deadly to the ones that are not fortunate enough to be loved by them. Those guys get vicious. But, that was a lost cause, for Mount Wycheproof was never to return. I wondered what it could have been that made the environment take a dramatic change. I replayed the events from that day, a day full of both joy and pain, and tried to find the cause. There wasn't one. It must have been Melvin. He knew I was upset (because he's all-knowing) and so gave me the land I so desperately needed. Melvin bless himself...

But, anyway, this matter was far more important. I needed a sports drink, and fast. Really fast. I flew from where I stood in hurried motions, past where I had curled up in pain, past that building with the glowing, green matrix inside it, and came to the convenience store. This was no ordinary convenience store. It sold only three things: batteries, engagement rings, and, of course, sports drinks, therefore making it, ironically, not particularly convenient to many people. But, fortunately, it was extremely convenient to me. I flew in, picked up a sports drink, and queued up. I was behind a blue man wearing seventeen hats and carrying six handbags, who was buying eight engagement rings. Then, it was my turn, and I placed the sports drink on the counter. Then, the shop owner, through me out, muttering some rubbish about not serving toucans. Erm, RACISM! Now where was I going to get a sports drink?

That's when it hit me. _I_ didn't have to get a sports drink. I just needed someone to get one for me...

I turned around to be greeted by a familiar face. A familiar, _pale_, face. A face that seemed to be staring into my soul.

I explained my situation to him about seven times, and he did nothing. I pecked him in the foot to try and get his attention, but that just made him scream and run away. He really was a strange one...

I continued walking, but, to my delight, the environment was undergoing transformation. I stood still and watched the change, until, finally, there it was. Mount Wycheproof.

Oh, the pixies! Oh, the joy! Oh, the yodly yomit choco swum with multi-popswable toy!

With these guys on my side, I no longer had any need for a sports drink, that much was certain. I cawed insanely loud, and the pixies screamed their war cry behind me. Then, we took off, leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia (lumberjack reference).

"Morphinus?" called Denuloson, my personal favourite of the pixies. I turned to face him. "Where are we headed?"

My grandmother's house, of course. I sent him a toucan signal that expressed as such.

"Yes, but... well, where might that be?"

It was knocked down after my grandmother died. Now, how did you say that in toucan sign language...?

After a long while, I managed to tell him.

"So, if your grandmother's dead, why are we saving her?"

...

...Um...

Wow, he had a point. I turned back, apologetically, to see the outraged faces of pixies. They didn't love me, not anymore. Their glare alone was terrifying. I was done for.

No! Rubbish! I'd got out of trickier situations than this before! Who was it who served as prime minister during the Second World War? Okay, Winston Churchill, but I gave birth to a bear! You think giving birth to a baby is painful, but those things are bloody huge! Churchill can suck it!

Then, I was falling.

Falling, falling, falling...

And when I resurfaced, I was not the same toucan I had been. I had an entirely new perspective on life. In that moment, I became aware that my mother was not my mother. But, I had bigger problems, for I had fallen right into the lair of the Bulgarian sheep. They gathered around me, bleating with pure hatred. Did they know it was me? Or did they think I was just a clumsy, toucan passer-by? I couldn't be sure, so, I did the only thing I think to do: tell them I had taken their children hostage and they would not be released until they performed a sheepish version of Pygmalion. Why did I want them to do this? It would buy me time, and I loved that play...

I wasn't sure if they heard, because they didn't kill me, but didn't perform Pygmalion either. I started to wonder if they would even care if I left, but then the grand production began.

_Dun dun de dun!_

"I say, I say, I say, why do ducklings walk softly?"

"'Cause they can't walk hardly!"

"Ha ha ha ha!"

_Dun dun!_

It wasn't Pygmalion. This was something else. This was the art of genius.

I mean, I knew these guys were smart enough to outwit the humans in the Great Sheepy War, but I thought it was an "evil genius" kind of smart they had going on, not a show-biz intelligence. I also thought they were just crazy evil. I didn't realise it was an "I-am-the-way-I-am-because-I'm-talented-and-still-didn't-succeed" thing. These guys were killers, but I felt sorry for them. I vowed in my toucanly way that I would help them give up their genocidal ways and take up a career in musical theatre. It's the logical path to take... but not now. Now, they needed time to hone their skills. And I needed to be somewhere happy...

I needed to find a place of love and goodness, a place where I could be happy again. Like... Helsinki!

Helsinki: Finland's great capital. Oh, how I yearned to be there... But a toucan just can't fly that far. I was going to have to find another way. But how? But, there was no time for that then, the computer was starting. I got some hot chocolate and sat at the computer screen. My immediate reaction was to go on Google and Google... HELSINKI! It looked like such a charming place. So charming, in fact, that it lifted me from where I sat.

I was soaring, flying. There wasn't a star in heaven that I couldn't reach. If I was trying, I was breaking free. Although, the religion of Melvin does not really support the idea of heaven. I looked at the muddy trench below me and fell.

Falling, falling, falling... again...

In the muddy trench, I found hope. Hope that I could one day be reunited with my loved ones. That we could work out our problems. Loofentyle, Denuloson... I loved them so. Then, I wondered about Derek. Was he really so evil? I mean, sure, he tried to eat my grandmother, but does it still count if I have no grandmother for him to eat? I couldn't be sure. I was going to need some kind of outstanding study. But, there was no time for that, for just that second I imploded without cause.

The End.


	4. The Complexities of Loofentyle

The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death IV

You may be wondering how we will manage to continue this story. Morphinus Creekenstein IV has spontaneously imploded. No man can be rejuvenated after such a severe death.

But, of course, dear Morphinus never was a man. She was a woman (the kind of extremely odd woman who gives birth to father-less bears), and then a toucan.

I can confirm for you now that Morphinus will be alive and well, all in good time. But, in order to continue the story, we must enter the mind of another, seeing as Morphinus' is inactive.

So, for the time being, we will enter the mind of Morphinus' beloved hippo, Loofentyle, who, if you remember, we left crashed into that rock that Morphinus made him charge into because she was under the deluded impression that he was her long lost brother.

I had been lying here for _hours_.

I was playing dead, as I've heard many other members of the animal kingdom tend to, in order to avoid that mental bird. What the hell was it doing? It had got stuck in the ground (please don't ask me how), and when I pulled it out, it just leapt on me and charged me right into a freaking rock! What in the name of Hippopotameniumolarythe (the hippo God) was it thinking? Stranger than that, the guy who came and got me was made out of chocolate milk! He seemed a nice chap, though. He was one of those rare human beings (and other than the chocolate milk, I think he was humanoid enough to be considered one) who understood that they were not the higher, superior, or even chosen beings.

Human beings had this unbelievably cocky thing where they assume that just because they have skyscrapers and technology and all that, that they are infinitely more intelligent than all other life forms on Earth. Some even go as far as to say that they are too superior to be considered part of the animal kingdom. We hippos have no ways of developing such things, because of our hands.

I've got news for you, mankind: IT'S NOT OUR FAULT WE LACK OPPOSABLE THUMBS.

They also say that they're more superior because they've developed more complex language and civilisation.

Now you, reading this. You are a human being. Read back over my train of thought. Is it in some ridiculously primitive hippo-speak? No, it's in English!

As for being civilised, you guys are the ones who think watching people blow each other up and going shooting things purely for the hell of it is entertaining. We just wallow around in the mud. Which of those sounds more civilised, hm?

Anyway, the general big-headedness of humans isn't important. What's important is the story.

So, I had playing dead for hours, and had finally decided it was safe. I stood up and yawned.

God, it was miles away back to my muddy hole...

I began trekking, only to be interrupted by a huge swarm of extremely angry pixies.

"Hey, hippopotamus, have you seen a toucan around here?" one yelled at me. Oh, Christ, not more about this stupid bird...

"Yes, it was right there stuck in the ground, but then it went off."

"Where?"

"I don't know, I was playing dead at the time."

"Why? You're a hippo!"

"Don't worry about it..."

"Oh well. Gang, we're splitting up!"

He then proceeded to put them into groups and send them off into different directions. They all flew off in a graceful formation, and I turned back to my trekking. When I turned around, I was met by the oddly torturous gaze of a remaining pixie. I would have asked what he was doing, but for such a small creature he was bizarrely petrifying, and I could not speak. His lips slowly pulled up at the corners of his mouth, and gradually into a huge, wicked grin. The next thing I saw was darkness. Cold, black nothingness.

I opened my eyes. The sight I saw almost made me cry. It was all too much. What happened to the days when I did nothing but wallow all day? Who knows, but they were gone now. And I had a horrible, stabbing feeling that it was for good.

I was in a strange, underground cavern. The place was jam-packed with sheep, and in front of me was a vast stage, with two other sheep on it. They were all looking at me like I shouldn't be there, and, believe me, I agreed.

"Erm..." I said, struggling for words. What did you say in a situation like this? "Hi...?"

The sheep just looked at each other like they didn't understand a word I said. The two on stage shrugged at each other, then nodded at a sheep in the corner on a piano, who I hadn't noticed before.

_Dun dun de dun!_

"I say, I say, I say, why do ducklings walk softly?"

"'Cause they can't walk hardly!"

"Ha ha ha ha!"

_Dun dun!_

Oh, God, what the bloody hell was that supposed to be? This was too weird, and it had pushed me over the edge. I burst into tears at the stress of it all. A nearby sheep patted me comfortingly on shoulder, but I shrugged him off.

"Look, I don't know where I am, what I'm doing here, or how I got here," I said in a desperate whine. "But showing me a terrible joke masquerading as a play really isn't going to help, so, please, just tell me where I am and direct me to the exit."

They said nothing for a very, very long time. They just stared and watched me weep.

This went on for about ten minutes, until someone in the back yelled "I just met your sister!" which made me cry harder. I didn't even have a sister.

Another five minutes passed. Then, a light of ominous green lit up the room. Each and every one of the sheep raised their arms straight up in the air, and cried a high-pitched, holy-sounding "Ah!" noise in unison. They took slow, mysterious steps towards each other, and formed a perfectly shaped circle together. Their circle turned around me, and every step they took was heavier than the last.

"Ah!" they chorused once more, louder than the last time.

"Ah!" the sheep chimed again. They began a rhythm.

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

Their pace began to pick up.

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

I heard machinery above me begin to whirr, then the ceiling opened up, and a bright light came down from outside the hideout and lit up the centre of the room. A shiny, silver, mechanical chair was lowered through the hole and placed in the middle of the sheep's circle. Whatever it was that was sitting in the chair spun around to face me. He was wearing a cloak. Not the typical black kind you'd expect, but one made of plasterceine. He wore a wooden motorcycle helmet over his head, covering all his features, and neon purple leather boots. You couldn't tell anything else about him because of the plasterceine cloak and motorcycle helmet. He sat facing me for a long time, and even though his face was covered, I knew he was glaring at me. I don't know how, he just seemed the type. He leaned towards me very slowly, until his face was almost touching mine.

"What's been troubling you, friend?" he asked in a low whisper. It took me a while to form a reply, not because he looked in any way frightening, but because he was so strange he had me frozen in total bemused disorientation.

"U-um..." I murmured weekly, too bewildered to form a reply just yet.

"Well?" he prompted.

Eventually, the story of the chocolate milk man, the toucan, and the grinning pixie had been told.

"I see," the helmeted one said wisely. "Now, this toucan you speak of... she has visited our lair as well as you. She was sitting in the very same chair that you are sitting in now."

"Cool," I replied, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

"She imploded, though," he continued. "It was quite a shock, really."

"How did that happen?" I asked him, completely out of courtesy and not curiosity. I didn't care in the slightest what happened to that bird, especially since I wasn't sure this was a true story.

"We don't know," he sighed, sadness in his tone. "We showed her our performance, then she stared at us in awe for a moment or two, and then, just like that, she imploded."

Having decided that there was no way this was a true story, I decided to change the topic. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" I asked.

"Ah, I am Sir Grinkledorf, and these are my Bulgarian minions."

"What, the sheep?"

"Indeed, young friend, indeed."

"Okay..." I muttered, having heard enough from this creep. "Could you tell me how to get out of here, please?"

"Have patience, friend, you will be able to leave in good time," he said, as if this was a helpful thing to be saying. "But, for now, we are in dire need of your help."

My help? What could they possibly need my help with? I just stared back at him, without the strength to actually say anything.

"The imploded toucan we mentioned," he began to extrapolate. "We need her back."

That almost made the tears start pouring again. "Why?" I moaned miserably.

"She's taken our children hostage, you see," he elaborated. "She said so herself. She said she'd release them if we performed Pygmalion for her, but we didn't know that play, so we showed her our duckling thing, and, as you already know, she imploded. We now have no way of rescuing the fruit of our loins."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Wish for her to come back," he replied. "We believe that hippos have a magical wish power that no other creature possesses."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, mate, but you're wrong," I told him. "There's no way I can revive an imploded toucan with wistfulness and hope."

"Just try. How much of your time will it take up?" he pointed out. "Besides, after that, you can go."

With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and wished the toucan would un-implode and reappear on Earth. When I opened my eyes, there she was, looking as healthy as when she leapt on me. She cawed triumphantly, then made her way over to me and pecked me hard. It was a peck of affection, for sure, but it still hurt. It would have annoyed me, but I was still amazed by the revelation that I could revive the dead by wishing that they would revive themselves.

"Morphinus Creekenstein IV," cried Sir Grinkledorf, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Will you release our children now? Or was our play unsatisfactory?"

She gave a guilty look that said that she didn't _really_ have their children.

"Ah, Morphinus," he said, bursting with laughter. "You always were quite the prankster!"

The whole room filled with laughter.

"Ha ha ha..." I laughed, not really finding it funny. "Can I go now?"

The End


	5. Rebirth of a Toucan at a Party

The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death V

Western warriors of the east, you have returned for more about our beloved weirdoes. How kind of you. Just to let you know, we are returning to Morphinus' point of view, which is a joyous occasion the whole family can enjoy, sort of like Christmas only not really because it's nothing like Christmas. Anyway, onto what Morphinus has to say.

Ah, Sir Grinkledorf. He was real cheery fellow. I mean, I had just completely lied to him about having kidnapped his children to try and trick his Bulgarian sheep from Essex into performing Pygmalion, which they didn't do anyway. But what they did do was infinitely more impressive in so many ways. First and foremost, hilarious, but also insightful, aesthetically pleasing, endearing and whimsical characters, fascinating plot development, as well as plot twist, and don't even get me started on the lighting. I could go on, but I would be going on too long.

Sir Grinkledorf and I had been friends for three-hundred and sixty-two years, though it seemed like yesterday that we met. It was shock to see that he was behind all this Bulgarian sheep business. I mean, after their famous duckling performance, I couldn't help but like them a little, but they were the ones who forced me to take up a career in destroying, the ones who wouldn't let me sleep, the ones who drove me away from home and into Nurfenville, the ones who released Kevin on me, the ones who caused me to turn into a toucan by releasing Kevin on me, and the ones who killed Winifred Flammel and turned Derek bad. They were mean, heartless, callous, cruel, unforgiving, and, most predominantly, pure evil. The fact that their theatrical talent was astronomical doesn't change that.

But, all are innocent until proven guilty. I wouldn't judge Sir Grinkledorf just yet. There are two sides to every story, and I am yet to hear his.

Besides that, though, I was over the moon. I was alive again, and was reunited with my childhood best friend and my long lost brother. Though, I suppose, he wasn't really long lost this time, since it was only about nine hours ago when I found him... Still, it was by far the happiest day of my life. The next of my loved ones I would aim to be reunited with was Denuloson, followed by Charles William Harrison Ding Dong McSheen Le Supercharge VII (my favourite pixie and the bear I gave birth to, in case your memory is failing you on this occasion).

But anyway, back to the story.

Loofentyle had just asked if he could go. His eagerness shocked me. I was his sister! Didn't he want to become reacquainted with me as much as I did him?

"But, young friend," said Sir Grinkledorf, almost as shocked as I was. "You've only just arrived, you can't leave now! In fact, we simply _must_ have a party to celebrate Morphinus' return!"

Cheers filled the room. Streamers and party blowers that all the sheep conveniently happened to have were thrown around and blown. I just gave a happy squawk. A party in my honour! In my centuries upon centuries on Melvin's green Earth, I'd never had such an appreciative group of friends, even if the vast majority of the ones here happened to be genocidal... But I was willing to look past such flaws. No one who throws parties in other people's honour can be a bad man.

"Well, you can have a party without me, right?"

The words exited the mouth of Loofentyle. Why was he so persistent? Did... did Loofentyle not like me? I gave him a sad, soulful look of desolation.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll stay," he gave in. "I'd never find my way home, anyway..."

Well, if he didn't like me, he was the nicest person I'd ever met. Good to the very soul. The room erupted into applause again at Loofentyle's decision to stay.

"Excellent!" Sir Grinkledorf cried in ecstasy. "Mildred! Lights!"

The lights turned down low, and disco lights filled the room, presumably because of Mildred.

"Congrats, Mildred!" I yelled, strong and proud. "The lighting is perfect! If there's anything that you want, if there's anything I can do, just call on me, and I'll send it along with love from me to you!"

There was a long silence.

"Malcolm!" Sir Grinkledorf eventually cried with even more enthusiasm than last time. "Call everyone in the address book and see if they can come! We're going to make this the BEST NIGHT EVER!"

This time the sheep head-butted each other with joy. I would have joined in, but my beak would have done some serious damage, and I didn't want to lose my new bezzies. After the head-butting session was over, Malcolm scuttled off to perform the deed.

Loofentyle and I began boogie. I was all over the place, but Loofentyle had gone for a rather unusual dance move. He just seemed to stare at me and never actually dance himself. When it occurred to me that this wasn't a dance move, I attempted to eat him. The attempt was in vain, for Loofentyle threw me across the room. The sheep guards threw Loofentyle out of the party, not for throwing me across the room, but for being friends with a Japanese baker, known as Joey Starfonswigger to a guy from Denmark who really, really likes golf and once did a very naughty thing that only he knows about, and Toppy Hugsworth to everyone else.

I was sure Loofentyle was not friends with such a man, but he did not argue when they removed him from the building. He even began grin like a madman. Maybe he was. I remember when we kids, he used eat uncooked squid. I know he's a different species to me, but I think that's unusual behaviour even by hippo standards. On top of that, he once wore sandals with socks, ketchup and cotton wool, and as he was walking down the street the infamous Jerry "Handbag Hunter" Lumps began chewing on his ear, the crazy bugger.

I closed my eyes to take in the sensual movements of the atmosphere. They were devastatingly subtle. I would have thought, on a night such as this, the moon would have taken more... precautions, in order to avoid a visit from Trumpton Von Trainer. I mean, if he came along there isn't really much they could do with all that ludicrous boloney the anti-bacterial losmasfecrume had lying around in case of unexpected attack of the elderly. That would really throw the Sombrero Kingdom's nightlife countryside trampoline out of whack, and the FSATG (Financial Support for All Things Green) would be so angered by this they might even destroy the sacred painted radiator that Lopish has been after every day for the last twenty superior cinema screenings for that Algerian Influenza that's been going around. Know what I'm saying?

My train of thought was interjected by the guests arriving. And, Melvin, they were a strange bunch.

There were a few more sheep, some Bulgarian, several goats, a couple of those living skyscrapers you hear about, but none of these regular creatures were what struck me most.

No, what struck me most was the two characters at the back of the group.

One was a cloud of green gas, and the other was a piece of bark. There were no other significant or distinct details about these two, that's it. Gas and bark.

"How do you know these are guests? I mean, it really doesn't seem like they are," one might wonder. Well, the green gas guy was talking to the piece of bark as if it were his friend, and capable of making interesting conversation. Also, quite a few people were looking at them in a "who invited you?" sort of fashion.

As the pair came closer, I began to hear their conversation.

"...and that really just doesn't make any sense!" said the GGG (Green Gas Guy). "What do you think, eh, Dorothy?"

Dorothy's reply sounded uncannily like silence to me, but the GGG was positively flabbergasted. "Wow..." he breathed, nodding in agreement. "You're right... I've never thought of it that way. So, you're saying that if... yes. Yes, that would work... Goodness, you're on a roll today, Dorothy!"

Okay, what? She didn't say anything! That was weird even to me, and I turn into toucans.

I was about to lose interest in the freaks, when the GGG started actually RAINING CURTAINS. No joke, I was standing about six feet away from him, and curtains started falling from him like raindrops. It was like everything I'd ever dreamed of dreaming of crushed before my eyes. I felt a stabbing pain in my chest, so great I fell and almost passed out. All of my friends, both new and old, rushed to my aid.

"Oh, my Melvin!" cried Sir Grinkledorf. "Morphinus, are you quite alright?"

Ha. To think, all these years, I'd never known Sir Grinkledorf was a fellow Melviner. I nodded to relieve him of his concern. He needn't be worried about me. I'd lived through worse pain. Not only have I survived implosion, but also the worst pain any person can suffer, pain inflicted upon me by a certain fan club I could mention. In fact, I will mention, because I have absolutely no reason not to.

Nintendo... I swear, one day, I'm coming for you.

You have been warned.

"You know, if you're really sick," the GGG began to say. "Dorothy here could help. She's quite the expert on well... everything, really!" He chuckled to himself. "Oh, Dorothy, do stop being so modest. You're the most insightful person I've ever met. In fact, I'd go as far as to say you're the most insightful person _anyone's _ever met."

I eyed Dorothy doubtfully.

I stood up, indicating that Dorothy's services of expertise and insight were unnecessary for today.

"Ah, well," said the GGG, pleased I was well, but also disappointed he never got to show everyone how amazing his lovely bark was. "If it ever happens again... well, you know where to call."

I didn't even bother telling him that I'd only just met him and had absolutely no idea where to call, because I was extremely sceptical of the fact that Dorothy was capable of doing anything more than nothing at all.

I decided to leave the memory of the freaks behind me. I had no desire to ever see them again. I decided to go and have a chat with the actor who plays the main character in Sheep Pygmalion. He's the one who says "I say, I say, I say..." and all that.

I congratulated him on his performance; he congratulated me on my implosion recovery... All in all, it was pretty cool... until the freaks came back...

Once they had come over, the GGG immediately started bragging about Dorothy's general awesomeness.

"Did you know that Dorothy can calculate anything you ask her to?"

"I should, you've said it about five times already," said an irritated Mazuki (the sheep actor).

"Give it a try," the GGG urged. "Come on, you'll be surprised."

I asked her for the answer to nine-hundred and forty eight times seven –thousand, two-hundred and sixty–four. Dorothy, of course, said nothing. The GGG, however, did not seem to be aware of this.

"See?" he said. "I told you she was a mathematical genius."

It went on like this for what seemed like forever but probably wasn't, because, eventually, there was a very, very small change of topic.

"Do you want to hear a funny story?" the GGG asked, eagerly.

"Would saying 'no' stop you?" asked Mazuki, less eagerly.

"No."

"Then alright, go on."

"Well, one night, me, Dorothy, and couple of friends decided to host a marvellous tea party. Only..." He had to pause because he was giggling so much. "Only... someone's not invited!" He went into total hysterics. Neither I nor Mazuki let out even the smallest chuckle.

"...Is that it?" asked Mazuki, wholly unimpressed.

But that wasn't it. The GGG dived into the oddest story I'd ever heard, and even after all these years, I'm still yet to hear a creepier one. See, during the marvellous tea party someone wasn't invited to, they realised that none of them knew who wasn't invited, so they went on a quest to find out. They eventually discovered it was their mothers, so they bought their mothers cream cakes. But, unfortunately, their mothers died, and at their funeral (which, for some reason, was in space), they threw their mothers' coffin out of the glass dome graveyard thingy, and all kinds of other mental crap.

It didn't sound like a real story to me. To be honest, it sounded like some rubbish two teenage girls made up, on the way home from school or something. You know, maybe one, (who could have been, like, half-Egyptian or something?) was heading home like a perfectly normal person, and then this blonde girl randomly decided to follow her all the way to her house and then just come home without even going inside even though she lives in the complete opposite direction about half an hour away (and that's not even counting the additional time she takes up getting lost like she always does and yet never learns). Yeah, and then, maybe, while they were walking, they randomly started nattering about gas and bark going on adventures, possibly based around when Jack Sparrow says "We're going to have a marvellous tea party and you're not invited," in 'Pirates of the Caribbean' that the half-Egyptian one is randomly obsessed with for reasons unknown. Just walking along talking about insightful bark, space funerals, and, I think, at some point, there was a signpost or a lamppost, or some other form of post, or perhaps that's just the blonde one's imagination. Maybe the half-Egyptian one could help her out, say, perhaps, in a Facebook message? Just to confirm that she's right or wrong? The blonde one would appreciate it.

Or something like that, I don't know. It's not like I have any kind connection with either of these girls, especially not the blonde one who is definitely not writing this right now because she is just honestly sad enough to enjoy doing this with her spare time.

The world's longest story still hadn't finished even after I'd thought of all the above rubbish (which is absolutely and completely just rubbish and is no way something that actually happened), hours after it had started.

Luckily for Mazuki and me, Sir Grinkledorf was sending all the guests home because it was getting late, except me because he wanted to give me a proper goodbye.

The freaks left and I approached my old friend.

"Morphinus," he said, beaming at me. "You stay in touch, now. Don't be a stranger."

I nodded.

"Good. Where you quite alright tonight?" he asked, concerned now. "You weren't very talkative."

I signalled to him that toucans cannot talk, only squawk.

"Yes, that's what I thought," he said. "But then, earlier, when I asked Mildred to do the lights, you congratulated her and then started quoting the Beatles, didn't you?"

I shook my head.

"No, I'm sure you did," he pressed. "Your exact words were 'Congrats, Mildred! The lighting is perfect! If there's anything that you want, if there's anything I can do, just call on me, and I'll send it along with love from me to you!'"

I had no recollection of such events. So, I asked about the whole genocide situation.

"Oh, Morphinus," he said. "I wish I could tell you, I really do, but... I just can't. I can promise you it's not what it looks like, though."

That was enough for me. I gave him a fond farewell and a warm hug.

"Ah, 'tis not farewell," he said. "'Tis only a casual, short break from each other's presence."

I smiled, said goodbye Mazuki on the way out, and left, ready for new adventure.

And, as I left, I had the sudden urge to eat something.

The End

**Dedicated to Sarah Moris, the half-Egyptian one. There, I put in both the things you asked me to, even though neither of us could really remember all of the sudden urge to eat something thing. Sarah, you crazy old hoot. :D. **

**And, just so you know, the blonde one wasn't joking about that Facebook message because she really can't remember about that signpost thing.**

**And, to the rest of the world, I'd just like to say only half the crazy was mine this time, so I'm not **_**quite**_** as mental as this might make one think.**


End file.
